Fatal Agreement
by emerald1198
Summary: "My life depends on your death."  When Drew's life depends on shooting another person, he can't seem to find the heart to take another human's future.  But then he meets Eli, a heartbroken athiest who just wants a way out . . .
1. An Offer You Can't Refuse

Chapter 1: An Offer You Can't Refuse

Drew's POV

"Please don't kill me," I panted, the words barely audible through my sharp intakes of breath. I could feel every part of my body slowly shutting down. My ribs ached with growing pain every time I drew air into my chest, and my vision tinted red with blood.

This was it. I would die here. Seventeen years old. Left in the street. No trace of the killers. That would be Drew Torres.

I waited for the end, waited for just one of the three men surrounding me to pull the trigger. But there was nothing but the faint sound of the concert music far off in the distance. I concentrated on the sweet music, the drums that I loved so much. Or had loved.

"Get up," a low, menacing voice demanded.

I struggled to open my bloodshot eyes, squirming on the pavement. What had I just heard?

_"Get up,"_ it ordered once more. This time, I was sure I had heard correctly. Immediately, I responded, pushing off the ground to sit upright on the cold gravel. My whole body ached with agonizing pain as I struggled to stand on my feet, but eventually I was; dizzy and off balance, but I was standing.

"What's your name?" The tall one demanded.

"D-Drew," I stuttered.

"Drew _what?"_

"Drew Torres," I answered, quivering under the man's intense glare.

The men exchanged a look amongst each other, smirking bluntly as if murder was as rare as a white lie. "I'll tell you what, _Drew_," the man chuckled, "I'm not going to kill you."

I glanced up timidly at the man, the smell of the tobacco in his mouth wafting in the air between us. "Y-You're n-not . . .?" I stammered.

"No," he confirmed, "_If_ . . ." My heart sank as the man turned to his partners with sick amusement, "You need to shoot someone," he decided, smirking at the horror that came over my face.

"No," I pleaded hoarsely, "No, please. I won't – I can't – I can't do that."

The man shrugged, lifting his gun up to my chest. "Oh, well," he sighed, "I just thought you could be some fun. It's too bad."

"Wait!" I protested, my voice cracking with panicked sobs.

"Yes?" He hissed slyly, cocking an eyebrow.

I glanced between his eyes and the gun still pointed at my heart. "I-I'll do it," I cried, a tear streaming down to my nose before I caught it quickly.

The man grinned. "There's the right answer," he chuckled menacingly.

He removed the bullets from the gun and thrust it into my hands. "Because, I'm such a nice person" – the man and his two partners busted into laughter – "I'll give you some time to think about who you're going to kill . . . Make sure it's someone you hate." The men cackled once again.

"We'll see you tomorrow night in the alley outside the Dot," the man directed sternly, "Make sure your victim is there – tell them whatever you need to . . . a lie isn't going to matter once their dead."

I gulped and the man smirked.

"Oh, and Drew Torres, brother of Adam Torres, who attends Degrassi Community School and lives just off Queen's Street," the man snickered as my eyes widened with terror, "Don't try to bail . . . because we'll find you," he threatened.

I nodded, dizzily, my heart dropping to my stomach as I accepted the black, polished gun. I still clutched it inside my jacket when I emerged from the dark alley way, the blood vanished from my clothing without a trace.


	2. An Impossible Decision

Chapter 2: An Impossible Decision

Drew's POV

People made mistakes; they screwed up. It was just in their nature. Sometimes, they did unforgiveable things, unimaginable things that made them bad people.

But nothing made them deserving of death.

I studied the people passing by me in the hallways, none of them noticing my eyes searching inside their souls. One of them would have to be dead by tonight, one whole future cut short, one whole life taken. And it would be my fault.

Scanning the crowd, I locked eyes with Alli Bhandari. She was a small girl, wide-eyed and seemingly innocent. If I hadn't dated her long ago, I would've never assumed that she had made any serious mistakes in her life. But she had.

Countless times, the girl had found herself in the worst of predicaments, usually self-inflicted ones. Her record was by far the worst of anyone in this school, and yet the thought of her deserving death for any of her bad decisions absolutely mortified me, as it did with anyone I analyzed.

Everyone here had their faults, but no one deserved what I had to give them. I had to accept the fact that someone would be horrendously wronged by the end of the night, and make my decision fast because the time was ticking.

xXx

I couldn't be in school right now, not knowing of what was to come tonight. The cool air caressed my clammy skin as I struggled to rid the image of Owen from my head. He was the one I had finally decided on, the one that would lie in a pool of blood tonight, just like I had been only hours ago. Only there would be no offers for him; he'd be dead.

Owen was a jerk, there was no doubt about it. He treated girls with no respect and picked fights with any guy he could. He had used Alli Bhandari, just as she had used him, but that was beside the matter. When it all came down to it, I was the pure reason for Owen's death, and as much of an asshole that he was, I didn't know how I would ever be able to shoulder the blame in the long run. I was still in shock I supposed, but that was a good thing. I could do what was wanted of me quick before realization set in, and then . . . I shuttered thinking about what would come after the deed was done.

"You made me do this," I heard from somewhere amidst the fog.

I hadn't expected anyone to be here. I was sitting up on an old bridge, lined with railroad tracks from previous years. It was a place Adam and I had discovered years ago, one that I was unaware existed to anyone else.

I squinted, trying to see through the thick mist, and, when my eyes failed, I ventured blindly forward in the direction of the voice.

After walking for a few moments, I began to make out the outline of a dark figure, slouched near the edge of the bridge. I approached him timidly and quietly, not wanting to startle him.

Closer to him now, I could hear the sobs and make out the shakes rolling through his body. "It was always about you, Clare," he was chanting eerily, "Never her; only you."

"You made me do this," he stammered yet again, and to my mortification, he readied himself to leap.

"No!" I shouted, dashing forward.

The figure stopped, freezing rigidly before spinning around to face me.

I gasped. "Eli Goldsworthy?" I breathed. I knew him, not well, but I had seen him before. He went to school with me; he made one third of my brother's small friend circle, along with Clare Edwards. I knew him, but I had never _known _him.

Looking at his face now, I noticed the diamonds in the corner of his puffy eyes and the glossy streaks running down his face where water had once been. "Tell Adam I'm sorry," he sniveled before crouching once again.

But I was in reasonable distance this time, and I grabbed the back of his t-shirt before he could lunge. "Not yet," I murmured.


	3. Fatal Agreement

Chapter 3: Fatal Agreement

Drew's POV

Eli glared at me, his eyes filled with more anger and hurt than I had ever seen on another human. "What do you want?" He snapped, "Are you going to tell me it's wrong? That things will get better – because they won't!"

I studied him, my eyes gentle and careful. _Yes, _I wanted to say, _What you're about to do is wrong. Things will get better – they will!_ But I couldn't say that, not knowing that his doubt was exactly what I needed right now.

I couldn't think about how absolutely _sick_ this was, not now. All I knew was that, if I could get Eli Goldsworthy to listen to me, I wouldn't need to make the impossible decision of giving death to someone who I thought _deserved _it. Because, now, I could give death to someone who _wanted _it.

"No," I breathed, "No, I'm not going to tell you that, and if death is what you want . . ." I trailed off, realizing that I couldn't simply tell this man that this was _okay_, because it wasn't. " . . . Then I can't stop you," I finished truthfully

He studied me through bloodshot eyes, his expression softening. "I don't understand," he murmured, "Why did you pull me back?"

I took a deep breath. "I need you," I whispered, "My life depends on your death."

Eli glanced questioningly at me, his eyes lined with smeared mascara.

"I've got five gang members stalking me, and if I don't shoot and kill someone by the end of the night, _I'm _going to be on the other end of the bullet," I explained, shuttering at the thought of Eli refusing.

"And you're asking to kill me," Eli clarified.

Though he hadn't asked a question, I answered anyway, "Yes," I breathed, "It would be a quick death, I promise. A bullet right to the head; you'll get to end your life and I can keep mine."

I could hear both of our ragged breathing in the crisp air. Eli looked up through his dark wave of hair, eyeing me suspiciously. "What are the odds of this? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're lying."

"Why would I lie?" I challenged.

"So, you could get me to meet you somewhere, and then send some therapist or psychologist to find me instead where they'll lock me up and put me through anti-suicidal sessions," he shot back.

"Please," I begged, "I need this. I promise that won't happen."

_"Promise," _Eli scoffed, "What the hell do they mean? Promises are just another useless and ironic element of deranged life – they're meant to be broken. It's the only reason they exist."

My throat ached with panic as I realized I was not winning him over. "Please," I begged, "Just . . . please."

He glared at me. "What's in it for me? Why should I wait for you to kill me rather than jump right now?"

It was clear the fact that it would save my life meant little to him. "You still love her, right?" I edged.

"Who?"

"Clare Edwards. She doesn't love you, but you still love her," I murmured, "She may not care for you, but you don't want her to feel guilt for the rest of her life, do you?"

"Wel – I . . ."

"Didn't think about that," I finished for him, "And then there's your parents and my brother. You don't want them to feel guilty for this, right? If you jump now, they'll find your body eventually, Eli. They'll know it was a suicide attempt, and they'll hate themselves forever.

But if you let me kill you, they'll never know. They'll think you were murdered, and believe me, I'll never tell a soul about this, that is, as long as I want to stay out of jail." I was careful not to make any promise.

He studied for a few moments before finally meeting my eyes. "Where should I meet you?"


	4. Twist of Fate

Chapter 4: Twist of Fate

Eli's POV

The fog still hovered just below the ground as I distanced myself from the edge of the bridge. My whole body yearned to edge nearer; I could feel the sensation of death so close, within my reach, and yet I couldn't die, not yet.

The pit of my stomach still ached with suspicion as I analyzed the situation over and over again. Yet, when I truly thought about it, I realized that every element added up. Drew had dated Bianca De Sousa for awhile now.

That was the girl that skipped class to smoke under the staircases, the girl who I had seen purchasing drugs outside of the Dot once. She clearly came from a background that could easily include gangs, and, being her boyfriend, it wasn't unlikely that Drew could get caught up in trouble like that.

Sure, there was always a chance that Drew had planned for this, predicting my thinking process to be somewhat like it was now. However, I doubted this, knowing that Drew's brain had never struck me – or frankly, anyone – as overly developed.

In fact, Clare had once been his tutor . . .

I pushed the thought of way. One thought always lead to another, and her name in my head would not lead my conscious anywhere good.

It was too late, though, for the syllables were already resurfacing in my mind. _Clare Edwards_.

The name was so beautiful to me, even now as it tore my heart to shreds in slow moments of agony. The pain never subsided really. There were times when it felt more pronounced, but no matter where I hid, it was always there.

There was only one true escape, only one that would take me to a place where I couldn't hurt anymore. I wouldn't hurt, nor would she. Clare could move on with her life . . .

The images flashed through my mind. She would fall in love again someday, get married, have kids. She would move on without me.

For a moment, the agony was so powerful that it seemed to blur the lines between mental and physical pain. I clutched my stomach, doubling over with a strangled yelp, and for a moment, it seemed that, despite my promise, nothing could stop me from throwing myself from the edge right at this moment.

Instead, I threw myself to the ground, enabling the future my body had wanted for a moment there.

Patience was hell, but it would be worth it in the end.

xXx

I had the urge to say goodbye to her, not in a way that implied that I would be dead soon. But I couldn't leave this body without touching her one last time.

I wanted so badly to press my lips softly to hers, to hear her sigh, and tangle my fingers in her soft curls. I wanted to gently cup her cheek and tell her that it would all be okay now. I wouldn't hurt her anymore.

She was so close, and despite the voice in my head that disagreed, my body felt otherwise as I stood up from behind the table.

I was at the Dot; the alleyway outside would be where I would die, where I would lie in a pool of blood while Drew made a clean escape.

I hope Clare didn't see me, but what would it matter when I was gone?

I drew nearer to her. She sat alone in the corner booth, her eyes open, and yet something told me that she wasn't seeing what was in front of her.

"Clare," I murmured, gently touching her shoulder.

She turned, and I saw that her eyes were glistening with tears, sparkling like diamonds. There were glossy lines running down her cheeks where warm water had once been. "Eli," she sniveled, quickly rubbing at her blotchy skin.

"Are you okay?" I asked, sliding into the booth beside her.

She glanced at me before darting her eyes to her lap. "I, wel- . . . _no_."

I cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to look into my eyes. "What's wrong?" I whispered, softly stroking her cheek with my thumbs.

"I . . . I just," she struggled for words, "_I love you._"

I'm not sure how my lips new the words before my mind did. Maybe they didn't; maybe they had just needed to kiss her so bad that they would have done it even if she had snapped at me to leave and never come back ever again.

Either way, they crashed over hers only moments after she said the words, kissing her passionately as I let out everything I had been clenching deep inside me ever since she left me.

And she was kissing me back, our lips moving in ways that I never remembered them moving before. She wasn't as careful as I remembered her to be, but I liked it – no, more than liked it; I adored it.

And, just like that, the past disappeared. All of the pain was gone with one brush of her lips, and although I knew there was something I knew I needed to be aware of, I couldn't quite remember what it was at the moment.


	5. Pull the Trigger

Chapter 5: Pull the Trigger

Drew's POV

My hand clutched the smooth pistol of the hand gun. My whole body was melting, clammy with sweat and uncontrollable shakes. "Ready to prove yourself?" Anson breathed beside me, his breath smelling of beer and cigarettes.

I gulped, nodding timidly. Moments from now, Eli would be exiting through those doors and walking across the alleyway. Moments after that, he would be on the ground in a pool of blood. I tried to picture him, but I just couldn't.

I hadn't known him; I'd never really cared about him. But the thought of seeing him lifeless on the ground, his body no longer holding his soul, was too much to fathom. I had yet to truly accept that Eli Goldsworthy would no longer exist at the end of the night.

There was the creak of a door opening. "That must be your guy," Anson murmured, his hands jolting my shoulders.

_God, no. I wasn't ready for this! I couldn't do this!_

Slight pressure on my index finger. A steady arm. That's all it took. Just pull the trigger.

"Drew," someone called my name from the darkness, and I recognized the voice from anywhere. Eli knew the plan; he knew what he was doing. Why was he speaking to me?

"Drew, don't do anything! I need to talk to you," he continued from somewhere in the night.

Anson tightened his grip on me, aggressively now. "What does he mean?" He snarled, "Did you tell anyone about our plan? Are the police coming?"

"No, no!" I promised him.

"Drew, please, don't do anything. I need to talk to you. Just come out here," Eli's voice was scared now. Something was wrong, I could feel it.

My heat dropped to my stomach as I realized he was backing out. He didn't want to die. _This couldn't be happening to me._

"Get out there!" Anson hissed, "Shoot him now!" He demanded, shoving me out into the open. I gasped at Anson pulled out his own gun, aiming it at my chest. "_Now_, Torres!"

It all happened in a moment. I didn't know what was going on or how my arm moved from my waist to the air. I glanced at Eli, his eyes a mixture of shock and confusion as he lifted his hands up to shield himself.

A shot rang through the air, and I dropped the gun, my knees weakening instantly before I collapsed to the ground.

"No!" I cried as I saw Eli clutch his chest, moaning in agony as the blood seeped through his leather jacket.

"Eli!" There was another scream from the darkness, and I saw Clare Edwards rush to Eli's side, her whole body shaking as she removed his jacket, revealing a sickening wound through his white t-shirt. The tears were running down her face, sobs rolling through her body. "You shot him!" She screamed.

_No! This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She left him! It wasn't going to be like this!_

"Shoot him again!" Anson demanded.

"No!" Clare screamed, throwing herself over Eli's body thriving in pain on the ground.

"Shoot the girl!" He screamed at me.

Clare began to cry harder. "No!" I screamed.

There was a blur. My whole body was weakening, my knees about to give out. Two shots rang through the air as I hit the cold gravel.

Blackness consumed me.


	6. Surrounding Light

Chapter 6: Surrounding Light

Drew's POV

_"You shot him!" _The words pounded in my mind, relentlessly. There was light everywhere, and I couldn't escape, couldn't feel my arms or my legs. Taste, touch, smell – they weren't real anymore. All I could feel were these words and this piercing light. I was being swallowed deeper and deeper, and all I could see was the panicked eyes of Clare Edwards, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She was screaming, helplessly, and no matter how far I fell, she never seemed to become farther away, as if she was falling with me. Was this hell?

I tried to scream, but my voice was gone, lost somewhere in the light. _You shot him you shot him you shot him. _

"Drew." The voice came from somewhere far away, somewhere outside of the light, I knew. I tried to listen for it again, but my head was pounding with sharp flashes that struck through my skull like lightening, and I couldn't concentrate.

I was yelling now, or at least what I remembered yelling to be. _Clare! I'm sorry, Clare! _I couldn't feel whether or not my mouth was forming the words. My own voice didn't seem to exist.

I hoped she knew. If this was hell, and I was dead, then so be it. Because I deserved to burn in this light, to lose myself to the point that I was simply gone. But I hoped Clare knew I was sorry.

Maybe that was the greatest punishment of all, though. Maybe that was the only one I couldn't find fair to put on myself. Clare would live the rest of her life without Eli, and she'd always blame me. For the rest of her life, she would hate me, and so would everyone who knew Eli. I'd be just another disturbed teenager whose rebellion had gotten far out of his control, and no one would know the truth.

I wondered if there was a lot of people like that, ones whose true motives never really revealed themselves. Was it fair to say that misfortune had been my fate?

Maybe so. But, at any rate, I deserved to be here. I _wanted _to be here. Because I had killed Eli Goldsworthy. It had been my finger that pulled the trigger, my arm that aimed the shot at his heart. And, if anything, losing myself would let me forget about it.

I could feel everything fading away, my life, my past and my future. It was gone now. Drew Torres was gone.

xXx

"I'm sorry, Clare. It was never supposed to be like this. I'm sorry, Clare. Just know that I'm sorry." The words were real; I could hear them. The light was gone, fading from my memory already, and I knew that soon I wouldn't even be able to remember it.

"Drew." The voice that I heard what seemed to be so long ago was closer now, and I couldn't remember anymore. Where I was. Where I had been. I just couldn't remember.

Was this my body? Was I alive, or was I drifting in memories of my life? I could feel my skin, smell the air, the clean cotton underneath me. This couldn't be hell; it was too cool. Hell was supposed to be blazing hot.

I could feel myself moving. Was I doing that? Was my mind telling my body to move? Could I even remember how to move?

I tried to call out to someone, anyone that could help me, though I wasn't sure people even existed where I was. I tried to speak, but I couldn't remember how.

And then, suddenly, there were images across my vision. White. Lots of white. Blurry. There was movement in the figures, and I wondered if they could see me like I could see them.

"Drew." The voice was there again, and I felt frustration boil inside of me because I knew I couldn't answer. And I was so mad, so mad, so mad. And I just – I needed . . . I needed . . .

_"Ahhh!" _

A noise rang through my ears, and I knew it wasn't the voice or the white figures. And, suddenly, the white was gone, and I was lying in a hospital bed. My eyes were open, and I was still screaming as two nurses tried to calm me down.

My head was pounding again, and I realized I was feeling pain. My sanity was slowly coming back to me, and I couldn't remember anymore. I couldn't remember where I had been all this time, but I could hear the shots still. Three shots had been fired. Three shots.

"Clare, Clare. Where's Clare? Tell me where Clare Edwards is." I was mumbling wildly now.

"Drew, you need to calm down." Cold, gentle hands on my clammy skin, holding me down.

"Where's Clare? Eli's dead! Where's Clare?"

_"Drew, Eli isn't dead!" _

I stopped struggling. My mind had been going a thousand miles per hour, and then I heard that. I stopped, a screeched halt in the middle of the highway. "He was shot . . . ?" I protested, my words coming out as a question.

"He survived," the nurse insisted, and I looked at her for the first time. She was a small, young woman, red haired and green eyed. I looked into her eyes, trying to calm myself. _Just look at the eyes. Look at the green eyes._

When my brain finally cleared of the mayhem, I took a deep breath, ripping my gaze from hers. "Eli is alive?"

The nurse nodded. "Why don't I let you talk with a visitor? She's been wanting to see you for awhile now."


	7. Knowing Glance

Chapter 7: A Knowing Glance

Drew's POV

I had never been as disoriented as I was at the moment in my entire life, and though I probably would have recognized exactly who the visitor was the moment she was mentioned, my brain couldn't seem to function properly.

I was just sitting in the hospital bed, just waiting for some kind of explanation. Part of me wasn't even sure that I was actually alive; everything was so surreal.

"Drew Torres," the voice was familiar. So very familiar that it sent a strange shock of anxiety down my spine, and I wasn't sure why.

But everything froze the moment the small girl slipped inside the hospital room. The rims of her blue eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks, blotchy and decorated with streams of what had once been water.

"Clare! Clare, I am so sorry" –

"I know," she assured me, sniveling before coming to stand near the side of my hospital bed.

"When I saw you crying . . . after I shot Eli . . . It was never supposed to be like this, Clare; I promise you . . .!" I was sobbing almost hysterically now.

"Drew, Drew! I know, Eli told me everything," she said, her eyes growing distant for a moment.

"Everything . . ." The truth and what Clare thought was the truth could be completely different things.

"The deal you two had, the gangs . . . the suicide," her voice cracked on the last word, and her breathing became ragged for a moment as she clenched her jaw, trying to steady it.

"He didn't want you to know," I sighed, "He thought that he could make it look" –

"Like a murder," she finished sadly for me.

I nodded silently.

"Can I ask you something?" She murmured, meeting my eyes full on for the first time.

"Of course," I promised.

"Did he really think that I wouldn't care if he was murdered . . . as long as it wasn't my fault?" She whimpered, her voice hoarse and barely audible.

I sighed. "Clare . . . Eli loved you. Still loves you. More than anything in the whole world. I can't be sure what was going through his mind, but, that, I can promise you is true."

A tear streamed down her cheek, glistening on the way down as the sunlight seeping through the window caught it, and a sob rolled through her body, though she didn't attempt to stifle it.

"He said . . . right before he almost jumped . . . he said that it was always about you – never her," I continued hesitantly, "Do you know what that means?"

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening in shock. "Oh, my God," she gasped, "He was telling the truth . . ."

I didn't ask her what it meant or who Eli had referred to. It wasn't my place to know, and I probably never would. But it didn't matter to me anymore.

"Clare, we'll probably never see each other after this, so I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for everything. Tell Eli the same when he gets better."

She was sobbing, but her cries died down when she heard my words. "What do you mean?"

"Clare, I shot a guy . . ."

"And Anson shot you . . ."

Her words made me realize something I couldn't believe I had yet to acknowledge. "Clare, what happened to Anson?"

"He's dead," she murmured, "You shot Eli, and he told you to shoot me, too. But you didn't; instead you turned the gun on Anson. You shot him, and he shot you, too, but you survived . . . Drew, Anson is dead.

"It was self-defense," she continued.

"Not when I shot Eli," I protested.

"Shh!" She hissed, "I _may_ have done you a favor by telling the police that Anson shot him . . ."

I glanced into her blue eyes, shaking my head. "You know I don't deserve that."

She smiled gently, her blue eyes twinkling with the tears in their corners. "I think you do."

xXx

From that moment on, not much changed between Eli Goldsworthy or Clare Edwards and I. Eli was still the kid who discussed comic books with my brother, and Clare was still the best friend of a girl that absolutely despised me, along with a math tutor when absolutely necessary.

But there were always those moments. Those times when I locked eyes with Eli from across the hall or Clare, two desks away in math class. And nothing was ever really said.

Nothing more than a knowing glance.

A thank-you glance.

** So, yes, that is the end of this story, and I'm really sorry that it took me so long to get the last chapter out. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I may write more about Drew; I really like his character. **

** No epilogue or sequel to this particular story, though.**

** THANK YOU all so much for reading!**

_**If you like my writing, please check out my newest story, "When the Truth Means Little." I'm working very hard on it, and I'm very proud of it. So, please check it out if you have the time; I think you would all enjoy it.**_

** Anyway, thanks once again! **

** ~emerald1198**


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